


When I Come Home (Harry Smiles)

by zelicious



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Minor Character Death, kid liam, uptown girls au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-15
Updated: 2015-03-15
Packaged: 2018-03-17 21:33:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3544544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zelicious/pseuds/zelicious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You’re still looking for a job right?” Niall asks. Harry groans. </p><p>“Don’t remind me, El already bugs me enough. I’m looking, I swear,” He complains, mouth full of chow mein. </p><p>“No, I mean I have a job for you,” Niall amends. </p><p>“Like, a record deal?” Harry asks excitedly. Niall snorts and Harry pouts at him. </p><p>“Not quite, rockstar. Remember Ruby Payne’s son, Liam?” </p><p>And that’s how Harry ends up standing outside a formidable looking private school as eleven year old Liam Payne’s new nanny. </p><p>Uptown Girls AU where Harry is Liam's nanny and Zayn breaks Harry's heart (but puts it back together again).</p>
            </blockquote>





	When I Come Home (Harry Smiles)

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone, this is my first fic for 1D so let me know what you think. Uptown Girls was my favorite movie as a kid and Brittany Murphy's character reminds me a lot of Harry, so I wrote this. (If you haven't seen Uptown Girls you should totally watch it, but it's not necessary for you to be able to understand the fic). 
> 
> Here's a link to the song Molly (aka Harry) Smiles: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9HZm4lvztVA

 

 

“Darling please don’t be upset,” His mother whispers, hand brushing the hair off his forehead in a way that it usually comforting. Now it just makes him turn his head into the pillow so she can’t touch his skin anymore. She sighs and moves her hand away, but not before kissing the crown of his head.

“I’m sorry, Harry,” She says. Harry lets his tears seep into the pillow. “You have school tomorrow, and the show is for grown ups.”

“But aren’t I a grown up?” He asks, voice wavering.

“Not for a long while, my love,” She replies. Harry knows that it’s silly to act so upset. It’s not the first time they’ve gone to a show without him and it won’t be the last, but he hates being left behind. Harry can hear his father’s heavy footsteps come to the edge of his bed.

“We’ll see you tomorrow night, Harry,” He says. Harry pulls his blankets up over his head. His father rests a warm hand on his shoulder, and then they’re moving toward the door.

“We love you,” His mother says, and Harry knows she’s smiling. He doesn’t understand why she isn’t upset with him and it makes him feel worse. He doesn’t say I love you back. He waits until he hears the door close and then cries himself to sleep.

 

The voices are loud, ringing in his ears even though his palms are pressed firmly against them. His knees knock against each other where he’s sitting with them pulled up to his chest. He just wants them to be quiet, just for a second. The voices don’t stop.

“What a tragedy, and he’s so young too.”

“Well it’s better this way, at least he wasn’t with them on the plane.”

“Who’s going to take care of him now?”

They keep talking, and Harry can feel himself getting smaller. He can’t open his eyes because if he does they won’t be there, and he can’t bear to look. Why did they leave him behind?

Someone touches his back and Harry jerks away, knocking into the wall. The voices get louder, scarier. He imagines the mean looking grown ups all dressed in black, their faces long and pale with sharp teeth and dark eyes. Louder, louder, someone is touching him again, he has to get out of here, he has to leave.

He opens his eyes. Mom and Dad are gone. He bolts out the apartment and runs to the subway station at the end of the street to board the next train to Coney Island.

  
___

 

_“Harry, it’s Niall! You better be up, or Eleanor will kick both of our asses. I swear mate, if I have to come down there and get you myself it won’t be pretty. Hurry up!”_

_“Niall again. I’m not sure how much longer I can convince El that you’re on your way. She’s going to kill me, and if she does I’m going to kill you, asshole!”_

_“HAROLD EDWARD STYLES WAKE THE FUCK UP. I KNOW YOU’RE ASLEEP AND NIALL’S JUST BEEN COVERING YOUR ASS, YOU LAZY SHIT. IF YOU’RE NOT HERE IN TWENTY MINUTES I’M GOING TO DESTROY YOU. GET. UP. NOW.”_

 

Harry groans, pushing the silk embroidered sleep mask off his face. After staring at his phone’s brightly lit screen for a long moment, he sits up and stretches. Pyg oinks happily from his luxurious bed in the corner and Harry grins at him.

“Hello, Pyg, my darling. Did you sleep well? I didn’t,” He coos at the teacup pig, waltzing over and scooping him up against his bare chest. “My friends are so loud, aren’t they? I should find new ones.”

Setting the pig down again he strides over to his closet, which is really just a second bedroom full of racks that contain all of his ridiculous designer clothing. “What do you think, Pyg? Some Yves Saint Laurent? It’s a special day you know, not everyday you turn twenty-one,” He says to Pyg. He pulls on a sheer button up and does it up halfway before squeezing his legs into some skintight jeans (sans underwear, of course, because he’s the birthday boy which means he’s totally getting laid tonight).

He grabs his phone just as it begins to ring again and holds it to his ear with one shoulder while he knots the scarf Nick brought him back from Paris Fashion Week around his neck. “I’m nearly there, El, I promise,” He says sweetly into the phone, hopping into his gold Dior boots and heading out the door.

“You’d better be, fucker,” Eleanor snaps before hanging up. He grins when he sees the dozens of bouquets of flowers that litter the hall, all addressed to him. Picking up a bunch of coral roses, he prances toward the elevators, ignoring his crotchety old neighbor who scowls at him between chrysanthemums and lilacs. One of these days Harry’s sure he’s going to give that poor old man a heart attack.

“Happy birthday, Harry,” The doorman, Paul, says to him as he steps out of the elevator. Harry has always adored him; he lets Harry in when he forgets his pass-card (almost always) and always greets him with a smile, which is a lot given that most of the tenants are older and grumpier and glower at him whenever they see him.

“Thank you, Paul! Give these flowers to your wife, will you?” Harry says, pushing the bouquet into Paul’s hands and kissing him on the cheek as he goes. When he steps outside he stands on the sidewalk for a moment, letting the chilly night air wash over him. He looks out at the bright city and grins, admiring the beautiful view. Then he rushes out into the street and whistles, a taxi screeching to a halt at his feet.

  
___

 

Eleanor is waiting outside the bar when he arrives, Louis at her side looking tired and afraid. She whips around when Harry calls out to her and Harry can almost see his life flash before his eyes. “Finally! Come on, you’re over an hour late,” She snaps, grabbing his arm and tugging him toward the door. He smiles sheepishly at Louis as he passes, making a mental reminder to apologize to him later. It’s his fault he had to deal with a pissy Eleanor for so long.

The whole bar shouts ‘Happy Birthday’ at him as soon as he walks through the door, leaving him with a giddy smile. Eleanor sighs, hugging Harry tightly and wishing him happy birthday in his ear before smacking his ass and telling him to enjoy the party that she worked so hard to plan and that he ever so rudely arrived late for.

“Let’s get some drinks for my legal friend here,” Niall shouts at the bartender when Harry makes his way over.

“Sorry that you had to cover for me, I swear I thought I set an alarm,” Harry says. Niall shrugs it off with a grin, handing Harry a shot as he downs his own.

“No problem, Hazza, that’s what best friends are for! Now drink up, the night is young and you are old,” He says, passing Harry as second shot as soon as he swallows back the first.

 

Harry is having a great time, dancing with plenty of interesting and attractive people, when he sees him. Tall, brooding, with sharp cheekbones and a scruffy jaw. Harry is instantly in love. “Who’s that?” Harry shouts to Niall, dancing a few feet away with two blonde girls. Niall looks toward where Harry’s pointing and groans.

“No, Harry!” He says, poking at him sternly. “You can’t have that one! He’s working with me on getting a deal with Payne Records and you’ll sex him to death before he even gets a chance.”

Harry pouts, grabbing Niall’s hand and holding it against his cheek. “At least tell me his name, Nialler, please?” Niall hesitates, then sighs.

“Zayn Malik,” He says resignedly. Harry flashes him a toothy grin and the saunters off toward the bathroom, making sure to pass right by Zayn. When he glances back Niall looks like he’s about to cry and Zayn is definitely looking at his ass. Perfect.

He stumbles to a halt inside the bathroom when he sees what appears to be a eleven or twelve year old boy washing his hands meticulously in the sink. He blinks, rubs at his eyes, and tries to remember how many drinks he’s had so far.

“Are you just going to stand there?” The boy snaps, glaring at him through the reflection in the mirror. Harry gawks at him. The boy rolls his eyes and continues to wash his hands.

“How old are you?” Harry finally asks, moving wearily toward the other sink without taking his eyes off the young boy.

“I don’t give personal information to creepy strangers in bar bathrooms,” The kid replies flatly, and Harry gasps. He’s about to give a lecture on rudeness when Niall bursts in, glaring at Harry for a second before glaring at the boy.

“How long have you been washing your hands, Liam? You’re mother is looking for you,” He scolds, reaching out to grab the boys arm. The boy- Liam, jerks his body away and tugs a hand-towel out of his satchel, drying his hands primly.

“You know this kid?” Harry asks, staring at the laughably proper child in front of him. Niall snorts.

“Unfortunately,” He says, sticking his tongue out childishly at Liam who only rolls his eyes again in response. “This is Ruby Payne’s kid, Liam. Nasty little boy, has no manners.”

Liam scoffs. Harry just frowns and looks himself over in the mirror, tugging at the skin of his forehead which seems a little dry to him. Niall is telling Liam that they need to go find his mother when Liam turns to look at Harry coldly.

“You’re going to get wrinkles if you keep frowning like that,” He says, before stalking out of the bathroom. Harry huffs and pretends not to look for wrinkles in his skin as Niall follows him out, cackling. After he feels satisfied that he does actually look good and shoves the fear of wrinkles to the back of his mind (he’s only twenty-one), he walks back out into the bar, immediately spotting Zayn hovering on the edge of the dance floor.

“Hi, I’m the birthday boy,” Harry says, sidling up next to Zayn and blinking prettily at him. Zayn visibly gulps and nods his head.

“Uh, right, happy birthday, um, Harry is it?” He mumbles. Harry hides a grin and nods. He’s so cute and nervous, Harry wants to eat him right up. All in due time, he thinks.

“Yes, and Niall told me you’re Zayn, and it’s my birthday wish to dance with you,” Harry says. Zayn flushes.

“I, um, I- I don’t know,” He stutters. Harry pouts, grabbing Zayn’s hand and tugging him toward the dance floor.

“You wouldn’t deny the birthday boy his wish, right?” He says, pulling Zayn into the center of the floor and turning around so his back is pressed against Zayn’s chest. After a second he feels Zayn’s hands on his hips and smirks.

Niall is near the front entrance, talking to who Harry assumes is Ruby Payne, a tall intimidating woman with long blonde hair who is wearing sunglasses in the very dark bar. Next to her Liam stands stiffly, glaring at people who pass by every few seconds. Niall pauses, looking around the bar until he sees Zayn, dancing filthily behind Harry, and groans. He shakes Ruby’s hand, ruffles Liam’s hair (much to the young boys’ annoyance) and then stomps over.

“Harry! I told you to leave him alone!” He yells, probably trying to sound angry but only sounding like a whining child. Harry tilts his head with a faux frown and pats Niall’s shoulder soothingly as Zayn wraps an arm around his waist.

“Sorry Nialler, but Zayn’s a big boy. He makes his own decisions,” He says. He can feel Zayn laughing against his neck and preens, ignoring Niall’s increasingly agitated expression.

“‘S fine, really Niall. Thanks for looking out. Not quite sure why you’d want to keep me from this though,” Zayn says, making Harry blush. Niall rubs his face.

“Oh you’ll find out,” He says tiredly, “I’m going home, see you guys later. And Harry, for the love of god, please be gentle.” Harry grins wickedly.

“When am I ever not?” He asks innocently as he pulls Zayn’s free hand down to cup his ass. Niall just shakes his head and walks away. Harry spins around and wraps his arms around Zayn’s neck, leaning forward to whisper in his ear. “I’m feeling a bit tired too, care to take me home?”

“I’d love to, Harry,” Zayn says with a genuine smile that makes Harry’s heart flutter a bit. He holds Zayn’s hand as they head out, but Eleanor appears out of nowhere and snatches Harry away.

“Are you kidding me? Leaving your own birthday party early?” She snaps, clutching the meat of his arm hard enough to bruise.

“Owie, El! I’m delicate,” Harry whines until she lets go, though not before slapping his arm a bit harder than necessary. “I’m sorry but how can you blame me?” He whispers, gesturing toward Zayn who is waiting patiently over to the side.

Eleanor glances at Zayn, then turns back to Harry, her scowl threatening to turn into a smile. “God, fine, go have fun,” She surrenders, pushing him back over to Zayn. “But you owe me, Styles!” She yells at him as they duck out the door.

“Love you, El!” He shouts over his shoulder, and then they are out in the frigid New York City nighttime air.

Zayn, ever the gentleman, gets them a cab and laughs when Harry crowds up against him in the backseat. He grabs Harry’s hand as it wanders up his thigh and whispers at him to be patient, which only makes Harry even more impatient. But Zayn is just so handsome and sweet, and the way he chats amicably with the cab driver makes his chest ache in the best way, so Harry is content to rest his head on Zayn’s shoulder and try to keep his heart from racing when Zayn holds his hand on top of their knees.

Once they finally reach Harry’s apartment the way up to his room passes in a blur. He greets the night shift doorman, who nods politely at them and drags Zayn into the elevator by his belt loops, grinning when Zayn cages him against the back wall. They’re about to do some indecent things when a kindly looking old woman hobbles into the elevator as well, and Zayn immediately shoots backward to stand next to Harry at a polite distance. She gets off halfway up, wishing them a good night and smiling when they both chirp goodnight back at her.

Harry giggles when the elevator doors close again and Zayn grips his waist, pulling him forward against his chest. “Oh stop,” Zayn says, pinching the doughy skin at Harry’s hip, “I wasn’t going to traumatize that poor old woman.”

“I’m sure she would have enjoyed it,” Harry reasons. He squawks unattractively when Zayn tickles his sides, but Zayn still kisses his cheek and tells him he’s cute. They finally reach Harry’s floor and Zayn picks random flowers out of the bouquets as they walk down the hall.

When Harry opens the door and steps inside he turns, confused to see that Zayn isn’t behind him and the door is closed. For a moment he panics, remembering the few people who had wormed their way into his heart and turned out to have only been using him for his name or his money, but then there’s a knock on the door and Harry opens it to see Zayn, holding a chaotic bouquet out to him with slightly pink cheeks. Distantly, Harry decides they will have a April wedding.

Harry is off getting a vase for Zayn’s little bouquet when he hears a shout. “What the hell is that?” Zayn yells, backing into a wall as sweet little Pyg sniffs cautiously at him.

“That’s Pyg,” Harry replies, picking up the small pink pig and rubbing his cheek on the soft skin of his back. “Isn’t he so cute?”

“You have a pig named Pig?” Zayn asks blankly, still pressed against the wall.

“No, his name is _Pyg_ , with a y,” Harry says simply, setting Pyg back down to scamper away. “His full name is Pygmalion. I saved him from a restaurant.”

“Of course you did,” Zayn says dazedly, but he has a fond look in his eyes as he watches Harry arrange the flowers in the pretty glass vase he got from the kitchen.

“So, care for a tour?” Harry asks. His apartment is huge, four bedrooms, a chef’s kitchen, a wide balcony outside his room. It’s one of the only things his parents left him that he still has. He remembers being with them here when he was young, singing with his father in the big clawfoot bathtub, helping his mother bake cookies in the old fashioned oven that was more trouble than it was worth, which Harry eventually replaced with a newer model.

He pushes those memories aside as he drags Zayn around, pointing out all the little bits and bobs he’s collected over the years. He moves past the fourth bedroom without a word, but Zayn catches a glimpse of what’s inside and gasps.

“Oh my god, are those- you’re-” He gapes, pointing into the room and then at Harry. Harry ignores the cold feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach and forces a smile.

“That’s me, Harry Styles, son of Des Styles, rockstar extraordinaire,” He says airily. He slides past Zayn, into the room he almost never goes into anymore, and flips on the light, illuminating the rows of guitars that his father had once used. The housekeeper that comes once a week keeps them well cleaned, although Harry never bothers to check.

“Wow, I mean, wow, Harry! This is so amazing! I loved your dad, he was a huge inspiration,” Zayn says breathlessly as he walks the length of the room, fingers hovering over each guitar like he’s afraid they’ll break if he touches them.

Harry hums, fidgeting near the door as Zayn wanders around the room. Zayn keeps looking up at him with a bright puppy-dog grin, which makes Harry feel like it’s almost worth it, being back in this room.

“Oh hey, this is the one he used in the music video for Harry Smiles, isn’t it? I love that song,” Zayn says and Harry’s stomach drops as Zayn begins to sing the opening line.

“Don’t!” He shouts, startling both Zayn and himself. His cheeks burn and he stares at his feet, pigeon toed in his shiny gold boots. “Um, just. Just don’t, please,” he mumbles. Zayn is by his side in a second.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to- I’m sorry,” He says quickly. He pulls Harry into a hug and Harry lets his head rest in the crook of his neck.

“You didn’t know,” Harry whispers, holding on to Zayn a little tighter. Zayn moves them backward, out of the room, and shuts the door behind them.

“You didn’t show me your room yet,” Zayn whispers, and Harry grins. _What a beautiful boy,_ he thinks, skipping toward his room, _I’m going to keep him._

  
_____

 

Harry does keep him. For a week they stay in Harry’s apartment, a beautiful little paradise all to themselves. They turn their phones off on the second day after a near constant stream of angry calls and texts from Niall. Harry isn’t giving Zayn up anytime soon, so Niall can just go find himself another sexy musician.

On Sunday Harry wakes with the sun, Zayn still out cold beside him. He smiles stretching himself across Zayn’s warm body and pressing kisses along his neck, nosing at the scruffy beard that has gotten fuller over the week. “Mmm, I’m tired babe,” Zayn mumbles, nuzzling deeper into the pillow.

“I’m gonna go have a bath,” Harry whispers, kissing Zayn on the cheek before hopping out of bed, naked as he has been for most of the week.

The apartment is littered with various takeout boxes since neither of them felt particularly inclined to leave the warm apartment during the past few days. Harry steps over a few boxes as he move to to kitchen counter, giving the wilting flowers Zayn had given him a fond smile as he grabs a banana and heads back toward the bathroom.

He soaks in the enormous tub, a Lush bath bomb making his skin glittery and soft, humming the song that Zayn has been working on. It’s a nice little melody, but Zayn won’t tell him the words that go along with it. Harry secretly hopes that the song is about him.

When he gets out of the bath he forgoes most clothes, opting instead to pull on some boxers and Zayn’s leather jacket that he wore to the party before heading out onto the balcony to enjoy some fresh air. Pyg follows him out and he cradles him in his arms, staring out at the skyline for a while.

When Harry goes back inside Zayn isn’t in bed. Not unusual, he could be wandering around the apartment or watching TV, but Harry notices that his clothes (freshly washed, he isn’t completely useless) are gone as well. Strange, but Harry just assumes he’s had a wave of modesty come over him. Harry is about to call out to him when Zayn stumbles back into the room, fully dressed with his iPhone lit up with notifications in his hand.

“Zayn?” Harry asks, confused, “Are you going out?” Zayn grimaces.

“Yeah, about that, uh, can we talk?” He says, scratching the back of his head.

“Talk?” Harry says, sitting on the edge of the bed. Zayn shuffles awkwardly.

“It’s just, I don’t think this is working out,” He says after a few seconds of silence. Harry’s throat drys up. Just last night he was whispering endearment into his skin, and now they’re breaking up? Or, were they ever really together in the first place? Does having a week long sex fest count as dating? Harry is confused and hurt, but doesn’t say anything, so Zayn keeps going.

“You’re great, Harry, really great,” he says, “But I haven’t been to work all week. I’ve missed a ton of calls, I don’t know what’s going on out in real life. It’s been like living in a fantasy world.”

Harry frowns. “Well, ok, then go home,” he says, “We can still like, do this, right?”

“You make me crazy, Harry,” Zayn says sadly, “But that’s not a good thing. I can’t afford to be crazy right now. I need to be an adult.”

Harry jerks back like he’s been struck. “I’m an adult, I can do adult dating,” He says lowly. Zayn just shakes his head. Harry feels like he’s on fire, humiliation, anger, and sorrow all burning him at once. He tugs the leather jacket off of his shoulders and throws it at Zayn. “Just go,” he snaps, flopping over onto his bed.

“I’m sorry, Harry,” Zayn says. Harry doesn’t look at him as he leaves. He’s never been one for watching people walk out the door.

 

He sulks for a few days after that, not bothering to turn his phone back on and staying in bed most of the day, binging on takeout at night. In the back of his mind he notices a few things going wrong, like how the lights won’t turn on and how it’s always freezing cold in his apartment, but he’s too distraught to really pay them any mind.

On the third day Eleanor nearly busts down his door, standing like fury incarnate with an armful of mail and a bag of fresh fruit. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” She yells as she trudges around the apartment, throwing open blinds to let in the sunlight.

“Zayn left,” Harry croaks, sitting forlornly on the couch with Pyg cuddled in his lap.

“Who- that guy from the party? For fucks sake Harry, you knew him for like five days!” She snaps, throwing a banana at him as she gathers up the empty takeout boxes in a trash bag.

“But I loved him, El,” He whines, eating the banana gratefully. Pyg oinks in agreement from his lap.

“Regardless, he isn’t worth not paying any of your bills over, Harry. You’re being ridiculous,” She says exasperatedly, like it’s a struggle just talking to Harry.

“What?” Harry asks.

“Your bills Harry. Obviously you haven’t been paying them! The electricity's out, the heating is off, it’s a wonder you still have running water,” She says with a shake of her head.

“But, I don’t pay my bills,” Harry says, “Ben does.”

They both stare at each other for a minute.

“Oh shit.”

  
____

 

“I’m afraid Ben Winston wasn’t the most reliable character. He went missing two weeks ago with nearly 3 billion in assets from his clients,” The haggard looking banker tells them with a grimace, “Unfortunately you were one of the victims, Mr. Styles. He’s taken all of your funds.”

Harry sits in silent shock. Next to him he can hear Eleanor yelling something about how it’s a crime on behalf of the bank to not get Harry his money back, and the banker saying something about Mr. Winston being a private investor not under jurisdiction of the bank, leaving Harry’s money unprotected.

“But Ben wouldn’t do that,” Harry interjects suddenly. Both Eleanor and the banker turn to him in shock. “He was a friend, he handled my finances nearly my whole life. He wouldn’t just leave. I’m sure he’ll come back.”

The banker frowns sadly at him. “I’m very sorry, Mr. Styles.” Harry is very sorry too.

 

Eleanor insists that Harry moves in with him, since he’s being evicted from his swanky apartment that he can no longer afford. He puts his fathers’ guitars in storage, sells nearly everything else, and moves into El’s pristine apartment a week later with just Pyg and three puny boxes of his belongings.

She gets him a job at a high end boutique where one of her friends works, but Harry isn’t really cut out for retail. In the first week he knocks over two racks, rips a customers newly bought dress, and falls asleep on one of the display beds in the middle of the store. They let him go, and Harry is jobless, broke, and alone.

He goes out with Niall for the night because El is having Louis over, and he’d rather not be more of a burden than he already is, despite El’s vehement protests that she loves having him around and it’s no trouble at all. Niall only gives him a comforting pat on the back, and then they’re binging on Netflix and the greasiest pizza in New York on the shitty couch Harry had helped him carry up to his apartment many years ago. It’s nice to have someone who isn’t constantly pitying him.

“So anyway,” Niall says through a mouthful of pizza, continuing a story Harry is only half listening to, “Ruby said that Zayn was-”

“Zayn?” Harry asks loudly. Niall groans.

“No, Harry! I thought he died that week you kidnapped him, I can’t have him disappearing again! Ruby’s about to give him a record deal,” He whines. Harry’s already up off the couch, looking for his other gold boot. Eleanor frowned at him for hours when she’d discovered he’d kept them, but he wanted one last remanent of his old life.

“I did not kidnap him, Niall, he very enthusiastically agreed to everything we did,” Harry replies.

“I don’t wanna know,” Niall snaps. Harry gives him his best set of puppy-dog eyes and Niall sighs. El has long grown immune to them, but Niall’s always had a soft spot for Harry. “He lives on the Upper West Side, 99th and Riverside.”

Harry smacks a wet kiss to his cheek and bolts out the door, proclaiming his eternal love for Niall as he goes. The subway ride to 96th Street only takes about 20 minutes, but it feels like hours and hours to Harry. He worries himself sick wondering how Zayn is going to react to seeing him again, and then he’s at the front entrance to his apartment, staring at the neatly printed ‘Zayn Malik’ on the buzzer.

Too late to stop now. He presses the buzzer and waits. “Who is it?” Zayn’s lovely scratchy voice comes from the intercom. Harry’s heart skips a beat.

“Harry Styles,” He replies. There’s nothing for a few second, and then the gate buzzes open. Harry nearly runs inside.

Harry stands outside Zayn’s door for a few seconds to collect himself. Then he knocks. Zayn answers immediately, so Harry knows he’s been waiting, which makes his stomach do funny little flips.

“Hi,” Harry says a bit breathlessly.

“Hi,” Zayn says, staring back at him. They stand frozen, and then Harry is wrapped in Zayn’s arms, their lips pressed feverishly together.

They tumble into Zayn’s bed, peeling each other’s clothes off as they go. Zayn bites at his neck and Harry groans before pushing at his shoulders, sending him flopping down next to him on the bed. “What’s wrong, babe?” Zayn asks. Harry flushes at the nickname but is determined not to lose his resolve.

“I was just thinking maybe, um, we don’t have sex?” He says, voice lilting up at the end and turning what he’d meant to be a firm statement into a nervous question. He freezes, unsure what Zayn’s reaction will be.

“Yeah, baby, of course,” Zayn says, “Whatever you want.”

“I think I’d just like to cuddle, if that’s okay,” He says. Zayn smiles and presses a kiss to Harry’s temple.

“More than okay,” He replies quietly. Harry snuggles down under the covers, resting his head against Zayn’s chest and letting out a pleased sigh when Zayn’s hand automatically reaches up to sift through his curls.

The next morning Harry wakes up as Zayn is getting dressed. He stretches, smiling dopily at Zayn when the other boy glances over at him.

“Good morning,” He greets.

“Hey, babe,” Zayn says, tugging on his jeans, “I’ve gotta get to work, help yourself to whatever’s in the kitchen.”

“No, don’t go Zayn,” Harry pleads, sitting up and resting his chin on his knees, “Come stay with me in bed, I’ll make it worth your while.” He’s meaning to be cute, playful. Zayn’s face hardens.

“Well not everyone can be a posh trust fund baby,” Zayn snaps, “Some of us have to actually work.” Harry reels back, stung.

“Fuck you,” He snaps, stumbling out of the bed naked. He glances around for his underwear and gives up after a minute, pulling on his jeans without them. “You don’t- you don’t know anything,” He adds in a whisper, not trusting his voice to remain steady at full volume.

“I know you’ve probably never worked a day in your life,” Zayn says with a derisive snort. Harry doesn’t understand why Zayn is being so mean, but he doesn’t really care to find out.

“I’m leaving,” Harry mumbles, pulling his shirt on as he moves out of Zayn’s bedroom.

“That’s fine,” Zayn retorts. Harry gulps back tears.

“I don’t want to see you again,” Harry says. Zayn shrugs, not turning to look at Harry. As he leaves, feeling even worse than when he found out all his money was gone, he sees Zayn’s ridiculous leather jacket and snatches it. He’ll give it to Niall to return eventually.

 

Harry doesn’t particularly feel like going back to El’s and watching her and Louis be all loved up, although he’s happy for them, so he heads back to Niall’s and hopes he’ll be able to read the situation enough not to poke fun. When Niall opens the door and sees Harry in Zayn’s jacket with swollen red eyes and tear stained cheeks he immediately pulls him in for a hug.

“He’s not even that great a singer anyway,” Niall says, rubbing Harry’s back as they cuddle on the couch.

“Shut up,” Harry huffs. He appreciates Niall’s attempt at comfort though.

“You’re gonna be okay, Hazza,” Niall whispers. Harry wipes his nose on Niall’s shirt and dozes off, feeling much better.

When he wakes up he’s still on the couch, a blanket tossed over him and Zayn’s jacket clutched loosely in one fist on the floor. Niall is sitting next to him munching on a bowl of leftover Chinese food and watching America’s Next Top Model on TV. There’s another bowl set on the coffee table for Harry, which he grabs solemnly.

“You’re still looking for a job right?” Niall asks. Harry groans.

“Don’t remind me, El already bugs me enough. I’m looking, I swear,” He complains, mouth full of chow mein.

“No, I mean I have a job for you,” Niall amends.

“Like, a record deal?” Harry asks excitedly. Niall snorts and Harry pouts at him.

“Not quite, rockstar. Remember Ruby Payne’s son, Liam?”

And that’s how Harry ends up standing outside a formidable looking private school as eleven year old Liam Payne’s new nanny.

  
___

 

Liam emerges from the huge front doors with all the other kids, looking absolutely adorable with his mess of curly hair and his pristine uniform. He glances around the yard, obviously looking for his old nanny, a nice young girl who Ruby fired for reasons unknown to anyone, including Liam apparently.

“Liam!” Harry shouts, waving his arms over his head dramatically, “Over here, I’m Harry, remember me?” Liam spots him and looks like he may pass out for a second. Harry thinks perhaps short denim overalls and a bright yellow t-shirt was not the best outfit choice for his first day as a nanny, especially when he sees all the other somberly dressed nannies around him.

“What are you doing here? Where is Lily?” Liam hisses when he gets over to Harry. The other kids are staring and giggling and Liam looks to be trying very hard not to flush.

“You’re mother let Lily go,” Harry says, patting Liam’s shoulder comfortingly, although the young boy doesn’t look too upset at the news. “But I’m your nanny now! Isn’t that great? We’re curly hair buddies!” He pulls on a lock of Liam’s hair for emphasis.

Liam slaps his hand away and starts walking quickly toward the school gates so that Harry has no choice but to hurry after him. “ _My_ hair doesn’t make me look like a gross hippy,” Liam snaps at him.

Harry presses a hand to his heart, gasping loud enough to make all the kids turn and stare at them again. “Words hurt, Liam,” Harry scolds, giggling when Liam flushes and scowls at the gawking schoolchildren.

“Whatever, can we go, please? I need to take my medication,” Liam says. Harry nods, grabbing Liam’s hand and walking him down the street. Liam jerks his hand away twice, but decides it’s not worth the effort the third time Harry grabs it and allows Harry to hold his hand as they make their way back to Liam’s apartment. Harry counts it as a win.

Liam gets them past the front desk, introducing Harry to the security guards as ‘Harry the Nanny’, and they ride the elevator up to the top floor in silence. Harry stands in awe when they finally reach Liam’s floor. Harry had been rich, but the Payne’s were on a whole other level of wealthy. All the floors were marble, an expensive table with a vase that was made out of what was possibly solid gold holding a beautiful bunch of flowers sitting demurely in the front entrance. Workers skittered about the foyer dressed in honest to god maid uniforms. Harry was in shock.

“Put your stuff in there,” Liam says, pointing to a door near the elevator. Harry opens the door and finds a closet full of beautiful expensive coats. He sets his raggedy leather satchel down on the floor and shuts the door. Liam has disappeared down a long hall, so Harry wanders along it, peeking in every room to see if Liam is there.

In the second to last room he sees an older man lying in a hospital bed, tubes connecting him to a few faintly beeping machines. A nurse looks up at him, and then a tiny hand is pulling the door shut. Liam stares at him before stalking off to the room at the end of the hall, and Harry follows.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to be nosy, I was just looking for you,” Harry says in the doorway of Liam’s bedroom. It’s spacious, painted a pretty shade of sky blue. There’s a long bookshelf along the back wall that holds a multitude of neatly kept action figures and plastic covered stacks of comic books. Harry wouldn’t have known it was a child’s room if Liam hadn’t come into it.

“Whatever,” Liam says, pulling open a drawer in his bedside table.

“Was that your dad?” Harry asks quietly.

“Don’t worry about it,” Liam says flatly. Harry doesn’t press the issue further. He spots an upright piano in the corner and gasps excitedly, running over to it.

“Do you play?” He asks, sliding the cover up off the keys.

“No, I just like looking at it,” Liam remarks dully. Harry wonders if he was ever as sarcastic as Liam when he was eleven, but then again he didn’t really talk much after the accident.

“I used to play when I was younger,” He says wistfully, wiggling his fingers over the keys, “I don’t anymore.” Liam just raises an eyebrow, then hands Harry a bottle of expensive water for him to open.

Harry does so, handing it to Liam and watching him swallow the little white pills that he retrieved from his bedside table.

“What are those for?” He asks before he can stop himself.

“Anxiety,” Liam says. He takes the water bottle and heads over to his neat little desk. “I’m going to do my homework. I want a snack.” Then after a moment, he adds a quieter ‘please’. Harry preens.

“Anything for you, my darling Liam. Will a turkey sandwich suffice?” He asks with a mocking posh accent. He can see Liam almost crack a smile.

“Yes, thank you, Harry,” He says. Harry skips out to the kitchen, nearly colliding head-on with Ruby Payne on the way.

“Oh! H-Hello, Mrs. Payne,” He stutters. She looks at him with disinterest.

“Who are you?” She asks.

“I’m Harry, Liam’s new nanny? You fired Lily, so Niall said you would let me take the job,” he adds uneasily. Maybe Niall was just messing with him, and Ruby thinks he’s some kind of creepy pedophile trying to steal her son. He’s going to kill Niall.

“Oh, yes, Niall. He’s working with that Zayn boy, isn’t he?” She says. Harry flinches at the mention of Zayn’s name, but nods. “Well that’s fine, as long as Liam likes you,” she says.

“Um, I think so,” he replies. She smiles a bit at that, and then she’s gone, stepping into the elevator with her sunglasses already perched on her face. Harry takes a deep breath and then sets off to make Liam his sandwich.

  
___

 

Over the next few weeks, Harry’s friendship with Liam steadily grows. Liam stops glowering when Harry picks him up from school, he grabs Harry’s hand without being forced when they walk home, he plays piano for him sometimes, and even let’s Harry look at some of his mint-condition comic books.

Sometimes there’s a lot of nurses that bolt in and out of Liam’s father’s room, and Liam is quiet on those days, so Harry does his best to cheer him up. He’ll play upbeat music loudly on Liam’s bluetooth speakers and make him dance around until Liam is breathless with laughter, telling Harry he looks like a demented monkey when he dances. Harry grins, knowing he doesn’t mean it. He never sees Liam’s mother around after their initial run in, but it’s not Harry’s business, so he doesn’t mention it.

Things are going pretty well on the home-front too. Louis moves in with El, so Harry and Pyg move in with Niall. Their apartment is a strictly No Zayn Zone, although Harry knows Niall’s been working closely with him over the past few weeks. They both understand that work is work and doesn’t need to interfere with their private lives. Although Niall does ask after Zayn’s jacket a couple times, saying something about it being his good luck charm, but Harry just brushes him off with the excuse that he left it at the Payne's’ apartment.

 

Harry waits for Liam like he does every Monday, this time wearing Zayn’s jacket because it’s chilly out and also because it makes him feel a bit cool. He shrieks when Liam comes out, causing all the other nannies to scowl at him. They haven’t really warmed up to him, but it’s fine because Liam has and he doesn’t care what anyone else thinks. But now Liam is standing in the doorway notably sans curls with a freshly shaved head.

“Liam, what have you done?” Harry cries, crumbling to the ground dramatically while Liam stands in front of him, rolling his eyes.

“It’s just a hair cut, Harry,” Liam sighs. Harry shakes his fists at the heavens.

“But your hair! We’re supposed to be curl buddies, Li!” He wails. A few kids snicker, but Liam ignores them.

“Well maybe I didn’t want to look like you anymore,” Liam says. Harry looks up, actually hurt a bit by Liam’s statement, but the boy is smiling. “I’m joking. I didn’t like it getting in the way is all. I like your hair just fine.”

Harry beams. “Well, you’ll just have to grow it out again, I suppose,” He says, grabbing Liam’s hand and walking with his nose in the air, an impersonation of the snooty au pair of Liam’s mortal enemy, fellow eleven year old Aiden Grimshaw. Liam giggles the rest of the way home.

Harry is telling Liam about the importance of leave in conditioner for curls when they walk into the apartment and Zayn is standing in the kitchen entryway, shirtless. He looks disheveled in an all too familiar way, and Harry thinks he’s going to be sick.

“Harry?” Liam and Zayn both say at the same time.

“I’ll meet you in your room in a minute, Liam,” Harry whispers to Liam. Liam frowns, but goes to his room, eying Zayn warily as he passes by. Harry’s heart swells with affection for him, and deflates as soon as he looks back at Zayn.

“What are you doing here?” He asks, confused. Harry ponders just going to Liam’s room and not coming back out until Zayn is gone, but he isn’t going to act like a child anymore.

“I’m Liam’s nanny,” He says, standing a bit straighter. Zayn’s eyebrows furrow.

“What? Why?” He says.

“Well all my money was stolen a few months ago, and I needed the job, so here I am,” He says. Zayn startles and Harry tires not to be too pleased about it.

“Your mon- you mean when we-” He stammers. Harry is about to say something witty - he’s picked up a lot from Liam - but then Ruby appears, wearing Zayn’s t-shirt with a noticeable hickey on her collarbone.

“Zayn? What’s wrong?” She asks, resting a hand on his arm. She turns, sees Harry, and smiles a bit too wide to be genuine. “Oh, hello, Harry. How’s Liam?”

“He’s fine, Mrs. Payne. In his room now, doing homework,” He says with a smile. She nods.

“Well, I’ll be in my room,” She says, more to Zayn than to Harry, and Harry pushes away all the images that come to mind. As soon as she’s gone Zayn rushes toward him.

“Harry, I’m sorry, I didn’t know, how could I have known? You never told me anything,” He says desperately. Harry looks at the wall.

“Well people always leave me behind in the end anyway. Why bother telling people anything when they don’t really care?” He says flatly. Zayn looks like he may cry, which isn’t really fair. Shouldn’t Harry be the one crying? “Here’s your jacket, by the way,” He says, shrugging it off and pushing it into Zayn’s arms, “So you can stop asking Niall about it.” And with that, he goes to Liam’s room, hoping faintly that he’ll never see Zayn again. As he shuts the door he remembers that he’d sewn a patch on the back of the jacket after a fatal mishap with a coat hanger, a pattern of cute little piglets that he’d gotten in honor of Pyg. He snorts, wishing he could have seen Zayn’s face when he realized his lucky leather jacket now had a huge patch of pink pigs on the back.

 

“So you’re friends with Zayn?” Liam asks when Harry enters, obviously trying his hardest to sound disinterested. Harry hides a smile behind his hand.

“Are you?” He counters. Liam shrugs, the portrait of nonchalance. Harry is more than charmed.

“He’s around sometimes, he’s always nice to me,” He says. Harry’s face twitches toward a frown, but he forces a small smile. “You didn’t answer my question.” Harry sometimes thinks Liam is too smart for his own good.

“I used to be friends with him,” He says, although friends isn’t quite the right term. But Liam doesn’t need to know that.

“Used to?” Liam asks.

“Well, Zayn wasn’t very nice to _me_ ,” He says, plopping down on Liam’s neatly made bed. “So we’re not friends anymore.”

Liam hums, turning back to his homework. “I don’t like him anymore, then,” He says, almost too quietly for Harry to hear. Harry manages to wipe his tears before Liam can see.

  
___

 

Everything is fine for the next few days. Harry doesn’t see Zayn again, although Niall keeps telling him that Zayn’s always asking after him. He tells Niall to ignore it, that he’s not interested even though deep down he hopes Zayn will try a little harder.

On Friday Harry is cleaning the apartment after Pyg had a bit of a tantrum. Niall’s apartment is less than half the size of Harry’s old one and Harry thinks Pyg misses having all the space. The TV is on, set to MTV so Harry can have a bit of background music. He’s about to turn it off and get ready to pick up Liam when a voice announces “Zayn Malik’s new music video for his hit single ‘Where Do Broken Hearts Go’ is up next!” Harry collapses on the couch and stares raptly at the screen.

Zayn appears, looking just as good as always, wearing that fucking leather jacket and standing on a rooftop, looking out at the city.

_Counted all my mistakes and there’s only one standing out from the list of the things I’ve done. All the rest of my crimes don’t come close to the look on your face when I let you go..._

Harry feels bile rise in his throat as he struggles to his feet, legs bumping painfully against the coffee table and startling Pyg from his nap. He rushes toward the TV as the song continues, Harry tuning out the sound in a way he’s gotten good at over the years. But he can’t ignore the sight of the pink patch still on the back of Zayn’s leather jacket before he shuts the TV off.

 

Harry is still reeling when he gets to Liam’s school five minutes late. He quickly scans the crowd for Liam and his stomach drops anxiously when he spots the boy standing alone near the gate, staring at the ground.

“I’m so sorry, Li, I won’t be late again,” He says, crouching down to look Liam in the eye. The boy just nods and silently takes Harry’s hand, not meeting his gaze as they walk down the street. Harry doesn’t say anything, only hoping that the boy isn’t too upset with him. It’s not until they reach the apartment that he realizes Liam’s mood isn’t because of him.

The apartment is eerily quiet, and Liam doesn’t let go of his hand when they walk in. He’s pulling Harry fast down the hall, but that doesn’t stop Harry from getting a peek of his father’s room, stuffed full of doctors and relatives. Harry’s heart lurches, wondering if the man has died.

“It’s getting worse,” Liam explains quietly when they’re safely tucked away in his room, sitting on the bed. Harry just listens and holds Liam’s hand. “Before he could talk sometimes and look around. He’s in a coma now. He had another stroke, and they don’t know if he’s going to wake up.”

“I’m sorry, Liam,” Harry whispers. Liam nods and leans into Harry’s shoulder.

“My parents died when I was around your age too,” He says easily. Liam stares up at him.

“Both of them?” He asks, voice small. It’s the first time Liam has sounded like an actual child to him and not like a grown up in a child’s body. Harry nods.

“It was a plane crash. My dad was a musician and they were going to an award show in California. I wanted to go with them so badly, but my mom said it wasn’t for kids. I was so angry with them that I didn’t even say goodbye when they left. And then they were gone.” For the first time in years Harry talks about his parents and it doesn’t hurt. Instead, it feels like a relief; like a very heavy weight has finally been lifted off his shoulders. Liam’s lip wobbles.

“At the funeral everyone kept talking. I didn’t understand, I was a bit younger than you, and I was still so angry. I couldn’t understand why they weren’t coming back, why they left me behind. And everyone just kept talking, so I ran away,” He says.

“Where did you go?” Liam whispers.

“I went to Coney Island, have you ever been there?” Liam shakes his head, and Harry makes a mental note to take him one day. “Well I thought it was a real island. It’s just on the beach, but I thought I could go to the island and live there. I was so surprised when I realized it was just a bunch of rides, but I was already there, so I got on the teacups. I spun for hours and hours, until finally they shut the park down. Someone found me eventually, of course.”

“Did you ever forgive your parents?” Liam asks. Harry jumps. No one had ever asked him that before.

“Yeah, I did. I just hope they forgive me though,” He says with a self-deprecating little smile, “I’ve messed up quite a bit.”

“I think you’re a good person, Harry,” Liam says. Harry runs a hand over Liam’s head where his hair is growing back now, not yet curly again.

“Thanks Li,” He says. “I think you should talk to your dad, by the way. It might help to hear your voice.” Liam nods. On Saturday night Harry gets a call from Ruby Payne telling him Liam’s father has died and asking him to please come talk to Liam.

  
___

 

Harry’s heart is racing about a million miles a minute as he stands outside Liam’s door. What is he supposed to tell a little boy whose father just died? What would he have told himself? He doesn’t know. He goes in.

Liam is sitting on his bed, facing the window at the end of the room. Harry stands quietly near the door. “I talked to him,” Liam says. His voice is cracked, like he’s been crying for a while. Harry wants to hold him and tell him everything is going to be okay. “I talked to him, and then he died.”

“Liam, no,” Harry says, moving forward. Liam glares at him and Harry stops dead.

“I hate you,” He says, “I don’t want you to be my nanny anymore. I never want to see you again.” Harry doesn’t cry. He’s the adult. He doesn’t cry. He shuts the door behind him and walks back out to the kitchen, where Ruby is standing with an envelope.

“Here’s your last paycheck, thank you for your service,” She says. Harry gapes.

“You knew? You knew he was going to say all that?” He asks. She shrugs.

“I thought I should let him fire you himself.”

“Fire me? _Fire me_? You thought your eleven year old son should _fire me_ himself?” He asks, voice rising with each word. Ruby’s stare turns from polite to cold in a second.

“Don’t speak to me like that,” She says. Harry laughs, much too loud in the quiet house. Distantly, he remembers that this woman’s husband just died and he shouldn’t be so rude, but then again she doesn’t seem to care, so he doesn’t either.

“I’ll speak to you however I want,” He snaps. He grabs the envelope from her and rips it in half. “I don’t want your fucking money. What I want is for you to start treating Liam like a child, because he’s a child. He’s eleven years old, not thirty. His father just died and you’re standing here? What kind of mother are you? You should be comforting him! Can’t you see he’s hurting? Don’t you care?” He’s screaming now, and he’s sure all of the staff is listening, and probably Liam too. He doesn’t care.

Ruby looks stunned. She doesn’t say anything and so Harry leaves. He hopes to god that Liam is going to be okay without him.

  
___

 

Harry should have taken the paycheck, but it’s too late now. He’s short on the rent, and he needs to pay Niall, so he sells his father’s guitars. Niall begs him not to, says he’ll pay the whole rent until Harry gets another job, but Harry insists. “I would rather someone use them than let them just collect dust in storage. Dad would have liked that.” So he goes to the auction house and watches them get sold to an anonymous buyer for five thousand dollars. He doesn’t care much for most of the guitars, but he runs a hand over his father’s favorite acoustic before he leaves. He can almost feel his father’s hands, playing the chords of the song he wrote for Harry when he was a little boy.

 

Zayn shows up at his door one morning with a bouquet of flowers, a very nice expensive looking one. Harry realizes it must be because of his new hit song. Despite his better judgement, he let’s Zayn in. “I just wanted to apologize to you for real,” Zayn says, glancing at Harry and then at the floor. “I was stupid, and I really liked- I still really like you. But I know I fucked up. I just wanted you to know how I felt,” He says. Harry’s heart aches.

“It’s okay, Zayn,” He says. “You were right, you didn’t know. It wasn’t your fault.”

“Yeah, but I still shouldn’t have been such an asshole,” He says. Harry smiles.

“Yeah, you shouldn’t have,” He agrees. They stare at each other for a long time.

“So, do you think we could...” Zayn trails off. Harry frowns.

“I think it would be better if we tried being just friends,” He says. Zayn shakes his head and smiles.

“Being just anything with you would make me happy, Harry,” Zayn says earnestly. Harry pretends it doesn’t make his heart beat quicker. “I wrote the song for you, you know.”

Harry smiles. “Yeah, I know.”

Four days after he was fired, Ruby Payne calls him again. Harry has to ask her to repeat herself three times because he can’t understand what she’s trying to say, and then he finally gets it. “Liam’s gone. I don’t know where he went, I can’t find him.”

  
___

 

Harry makes it to the apartment in half the time it usually takes, sweaty after running three blocks from the subway station. There’s a crowd of people dressed in black, and Harry realizes it must be Mr. Payne’s funeral. He pushes through them and finds Ruby in the kitchen, talking tearfully to a police officer.

“Oh god, Harry, I didn’t know who else to call,” She says, “Do you have any idea where he could be?”

“What did he say?” Harry asks, still panting.

“He said he had to go find the teacups. I had no idea what he meant, and then he was gone,” She sobs.

“I know where he is,” He says, and then he’s bolting back out of the building, finding himself on the train to Coney Island again for the first time in more than ten years.

 

Harry runs to the teacups and lets out a sob of relief when he sees Liam sitting alone in one of them, spinning with a look of concentration. Harry gets on the next round and Liam doesn’t say anything when he sits next to him. They both spin the wheel as hard as they can, and then Liam is puking in a trash can next to the ride.

Harry rubs his back soothingly. When Liam’s done he turns to look at Harry, and then, without warning, slaps him hard across the face. Harry gasps.

“Liam!” He shouts, grabbing the younger boys hand as he moves to hit him again. Liam bursts into tears and Harry picks him up, carrying him over to a bench to sit. “It’s okay, Li, it’s okay,” He soothes.

“I’m s-sorry,” Liam sobs, “It’s n-not your fault he died.”

“It’s not your fault either, love,” He says, pushing Liam’s newly grown hair away from his forehead, unconsciously mimicking his mothers’ go-to comfort move. “Sometimes bad things just happen.”

Liam weeps until the tears don’t come anymore, and Harry carries him all the way home, gesturing to Ruby and the police officers in the foyer to be quiet as he takes the sleeping boy to his room. He lays Liam down and pulls the blankets up over him, still shocked at how young Liam looks, how young he is. He’s always trying so hard to be mature that it’s easy to forget he’s just a kid. He can understand why Ruby lets him carry on the way he does, although he doesn’t forgive her.

“I love you, Harry,” Liam whispers. Harry kisses his forehead.

“I love you too, Li. Go to sleep.”

  
___

 

Harry is over the moon when Liam invites him to his piano recital. “I can’t wait to hear you play for real, Liam!” He shouts excitedly, prancing around Liam’s room with Pyg at his feet. Harry put Liam in charge of Pyg after the Coney Island incident, claiming that Pyg would be much happier in a big fancy house like he’s used to. Liam pretended to be put out, but he adores Pyg just as much as Harry does.

“I always play for real, Harry,” Liam says. Harry rolls his eyes.

“I know, but I meant for _real_ real. You’re gonna be so cute all dressed up in a little suit and everything! I’m taking pictures,” He says, pinching Liam’s cheek. Liam just hums.

“I think you’re gonna really like this show, Hazza,” Liam says, having picked up the nickname from all the time Niall ends up spending at the apartment. Harry loves it.

“Of course I will, Li! I’d love it even if it was totally terrible, ‘cause I love you,” He sing-songs. Liam rolls his eyes but he smiles.

A week later Harry is sitting in the middle of the fifth row, bouncing with excitement as he waits for Liam’s show to start. He hears a lot more scuffling behind the curtains that he thinks is strictly necessary for one person playing piano, but shrugs it off. When the curtains finally open, he gasps, eyes immediately filling with tears.

Liam is seated at the grand piano, looking properly adorable in his fancy suit, but behind him is a group of other schoolchildren, each holding one of his fathers’ guitars. Harry’s already crying when someone steps onto the stage from the shadows, eliciting a cacophony of shrieks from the girls in the audience.

There is Zayn, in the stupid leather jacket, Harry’s fathers’ acoustic guitar strapped across his chest. Harry doesn’t bother wiping the tears that drip down his cheeks.

“Hi everyone,” Zayn says, “Liam asked me to help him do this tribute to someone very special tonight. This is a song Des Styles wrote for his favorite person in the world. I would wager he’s mine and Liam’s favorite too.” Harry barely manages to hold in a sob.

He begins to strum the guitar and the rest of the kids join in, Liam holding it up with a gorgeous piano melody. Then Zayn starts singing.

“Daddy’s little boy paints the world with a magic wand. Daddy’s little child breathes new life to the morning time for me, though we’re apart his thoughts follow me,” Zayn locks eyes with Harry and he shoots him a nervous smile. Harry beams back at him, tears flowing freely down his face. “When I come home, Harry smiles with the dawn, Harry smiles and he radiates a glow around his halo. When he plays Harry smiles, on a summer day Harry smiles, a new day Harry smiles.”

Harry watches Liam and Zayn, and it feels like the beginning. His heart feels lighter than ever, like it felt when his dad would pick him up and spin him around in the air while Harry shrieked with joy. It feels like his chest is going to burst with love and happiness. It feels like saying goodbye to his parents that night, seeing their smiling faces as they walk out the door.

  
___

 

_Ten Years Later_

“Liam James Payne! Where are my children?” Harry shouts from the kitchen. Zayn snickers at the counter, kissing Harry’s lips when he pouts at him. “El, Louis, and the kids are going to be here any minute and I’d like my offspring, please,” He adds. Niall groans from the kitchen table.

“God, El’s bringing her kids over too? I can hardly stand yours,” He complains. Zayn and Harry both throw towels at him.

“That’s why you’re not godfather, Niall,” Zayn says teasingly. Niall flips them off, quickly folding his finger back when two toddling children run into the room.

“Rosie, Jamie, your papa and daddy are being mean to me,” He complains to the pair of three year olds. Harry watches fondly and Rose walks over to him and James bolts off to Zayn, gesturing to be picked up.

“Daddy, don’t be mean to Uncle Niall,” Rose says in her tiny baby voice that Harry loves so much. Harry nods solemnly and scoops her up, kissing her little pink nose. “Papa, you too,” she says, sticking her nose out to her other father. Zayn obliges, kissing her nose, then Harry’s, then James’ who squawks with laughter and pats at Zayn’s hairy cheek with a tiny hand.

“Your beard tickles, Papa,” he says.

“Oh really?” Zayn asks, then rubs his cheeks against James’, grinning when the boy dissolves into giggles. Liam comes in holding Annie, the baby, named after Harry’s mother. Niall immediately takes her, cooing at her as she stares up at him in confusion.

“Happy now, Mr. Styles?” Liam asks, snatching a cookie off the tray Harry’s just baked before the other can smack his hand away. “Your children are all present and accounted for.”

“Yes, nicely done, Liam,” Harry says airily, “You may go now.” Liam snorts, following James to the living room to help him start a game of Mario Kart. Rose wiggles out of Harry’s arms and goes too. Sometimes Harry wonders if his kids might like Liam more than him.

“Why can’t I have a cookie too? Liam got one,” Zayn says, pressing himself against Harry’s back.

“Because, my aged husband, you don’t have the metabolism of a twenty-something year old anymore, and you’ve got a tour coming up. I wouldn’t want you to look bad for the fans,” Harry says. Niall guffaws, making little Annie jump, and Zayn bites Harry’s neck.

“You’re lucky I love you so much,” Zayn grumbles, pinching Harry’s ass as he goes to soothe Annie, who’s started to fuss in Niall’s arms after being startled. The doorbell rings and Harry opens it, El and Louis’ own set of five clattering into the house and racing toward the living room, shouting for Liam.

“Well look who answered on the first ring,” Eleanor remarks, pulling Harry in for a hug. Louis pinches Harry’s cheek and sets off to find Zayn while Harry and El catch up on baby talk. Eleanor’s youngest is already four and she desperately wants to hold the baby. She tugs her from Zayn’s arms, cradling her close and sighing. “God, they’re so cute when they’re this little. Louis, let’s have another,” She says.

“Please, no,” Louis groans. Zayn pats his shoulder sympathetically, as if he wasn’t the one who begged to have another after the twins turned two. Harry calls everyone in for dinner, and they all crowd around the extra long dining table that Harry bought especially for nights like this. He stares at them all, his husband and his kids and his friends and their kids and Liam and the picture of his parents on the dining room wall that overlooks all of it, and his heart feels like it’s going to burst with joy again. But it always feels like that nowadays, and Harry is used to it.

 

 


End file.
